Chapter 4 Mara #2
“And of course, these are for my beautiful bride-to-be,” he declares, presenting the largest bundle of roses to me with a flourish. The blooms are velvety, their cloying scent already overwhelming my senses.
The eyes of every guest on the terrace are on us now.
I’m keenly aware of how this looks: Chase Harrington surprising me with roses in front of a crowd of society women, kissing my cheek as I juggle the extravagant bouquet.
He’s staging a scene for their benefit, and he’s very good at it. The oohs and ahhs around us swell.
“Thank you,” I murmur. My face aches from smiling.
Chase steps closer, an arm snaking around my waist possessively as he turns us slightly, giving the onlookers the perfect angle for their phone cameras. I hold the roses, doing my best to look the part of a delighted fiancée instead of a cornered animal.
He dips his head, ostensibly nuzzling affectionately near my ear. To anyone watching, it’s a tender moment, but I feel his hand at the nape of my neck, fingers brushing the stray hairs there, and the touch sends an involuntary shiver through me.
His lips barely move as he whispers, “You’ve been so good today.” His thumb grazes the base of my throat, just above my collarbone. “I have a reward for you tonight,” he adds in a low murmur.
My breath hitches. A reward.
Around us, the collective swoon of the guests is palpable.
“Young love,” one of the ladies sighs to her companion, clasping her hands over her heart at the “romantic” whisper my charming fiancé is giving me.
I catch a few dreamy-eyed smiles directed our way, as if we’re the lead couple in some fairytale.
I swallow back the bile rising in my throat and tilt my face toward Chase’s, letting him brush a chaste kiss against my cheek for show. If love sounds like a threat, you just smile prettier. So I do... I smile like I’ve never been happier.
Chase pulls back slightly, pleased. Then, he takes the heavy bouquet of roses from my arms and passes it off to a nearby waiter, before pulling out my chair with an exaggerated flourish. “May I join you for a moment?” he asks the table at large, as if he hasn’t already invited himself.
“Of course, darling,” my mother says, utterly charmed.
Mrs. Harrington is practically floating with pride at her son’s display.
They scoot over to make room as Chase settles next to me.
His arm drapes along the back of my chair, fingers grazing my shoulder.
To anyone watching, it’s a casual show of affection.
To me, it feels like a cuff locking into place.
The charity tea resumes around us, though now the energy is twice as charged with Chase’s presence.
I keep my hands folded in my lap under the table, squeezing them together until the nails leave crescent imprints in my skin.
It’s the only outlet I have for the adrenaline still pulsing through my veins.
Chase remains glued to my side as the conversation turns to the charity’s cause—some holiday fund for underprivileged children. He contributes smoothly, offering to donate a luxury spa package for the silent auction at the engagement gala, and complimenting the committee on today’s lovely event.
He knows how to play the crowd. His smile is easy, his remarks witty but respectful.
The women eat it up, laughing at his little jokes, swooning when he casually mentions how he just couldn’t wait until this evening to see his fiancée.
I nod and smile when appropriate, the very picture of a serene partner by his side.
“You two make such a stunning couple,” one society matron gushes across the table. “Truly a perfect match.”
Chase squeezes my shoulder. “Thank you,” he says, turning that megawatt smile on me. “I’m a lucky man.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I add dutifully, meeting his gaze with what I hope passes for adoration, and the woman coos appreciatively. The camera of the event photographer flashes from somewhere to my left; I don’t even bother to look. By now, maintaining this facade is muscle memory.
Plate after plate of delicate sandwiches and petit fours are offered and sampled.
I nibble on a cucumber sandwich and taste nothing.
Every so often, the photographer or a guest with a phone camera asks us to pose.
Chase obliges enthusiastically, guiding me to angle toward the lens with a gentle hand on my waist. In each photo, I’m sure we look flawless—his charismatic grin, my subtle smile, our bodies tilted toward each other in unconscious harmony.
I wonder if the camera can see how stiff my posture really is, or the way my fingers tremble briefly before I hide them in the folds of my skirt.
At one point, I feel Chase’s hand slide from my shoulder to the back of my neck, resting there possessively as he chats with a city councilman’s wife.
The touch is light enough to seem affectionate, but his thumb strokes once at the nape of my neck and I force myself not to recoil.
I focus on breathing slowly, evenly, counting the beats of my heart until the initial spike of panic subsides.
One, two, three... By the time I reach ten, the urge to flinch has dulled to a manageable ache.
At last, we make our exit, and a valet brings around our car.
Chase insisted on bringing me and Mother here himself—a fact I had no say in.
Now, it’s Chase who ushers my mother and me into the sleek black town car.
I slide in, and he follows, the door closing behind him with a solid thunk.
As the driver pulls away from the hotel, I catch a glimpse of a few attendees still lingering by the entrance, waving.
I lift my hand in a gracious goodbye through the tinted window.
Chase’s public smile drops the instant the world outside is obscured by dark glass.
The ride back to the penthouse is quiet.
My mother chatters about how splendid the afternoon was, oblivious or uncaring of the suffocating silence between Chase and me.
I keep my eyes on the passing scenery, shoulders pressed to the car door, putting as much distance between my body and his as possible.
I focus on the city streets to distract myself from the promise he hissed in my ear.
A reward tonight.
The thought churns in my gut. I don’t know if I’m more afraid of what he has planned or of what will happen if I refuse to play along. So I simply fold my hands tighter in my lap, and wait for the drive to be over.